


Ambush

by Sycophantism



Category: Clockwork (Webcomic)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycophantism/pseuds/Sycophantism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bartholomew has a favorite little place under the stairs of Mercia fortress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> How does Franz put up with this shit

This was a special little treat that he permitted himself from time to time. Occasionally he'd allow himself a little sample, a taste, something to remind himself what it was like. There was always later, elsewhere, but _here_ was what made it that little bit more exciting. 

Franz was totally onto him. In the beginning, when he'd stolen the blond away and pinned him under the stairs, he'd been greeted with a litany of pleas that implored him to wait until they were both off duty, or at least behind a locked door. That was half of the fun of tasting; everything was the same, it just wasn't in as much quantity. The quality was supposed to be the same.

So when Franz began to suspect his pattern of kissing him senseless and groping him but going no farther, he began to relax, and his begging trailed off into radio silence, and he went along with it a bit more easily. There were still those fingers clutching nervously at the lapels of his jacket, his legs twisting and bending, heels digging into the ground, toes curling, the effort to keep himself utterly silent under the onslaught of pleasure. But he wasn't protesting quite so passionately. It was disappointing. And it grew increasingly disappointing. To compensate for the lack of satisfaction, Bartholomew had taken to doing it more often, but that only aided Franz's diagnosis; they weren't going all of the way.

Fine.

A taste wasn't enough anymore.

So the next time he pinned Franz to the wall, the other was glancing anxiously upwards, toward the underside of the stairwell they were concealed by. No one really came back here, but those few times that someone had, Bartholomew could've sworn that Franz would melt into a humiliated puddle on the spot.

Without a moment's pause, Bartholomew seizes Franz's shoulder and spun him around, pushing him against the wall face-first. _That_ got Franz's attention, and just as though the last three weeks hadn't been a pattern of him gradually ceasing to complain, he went from zero to sixety in an instant; "Bartholomew, _no_ , oh god--"

Licking his lips to try and hide his grin, Bartholomew laced an arm around Franz's waist, sliding up close and pressing his front flush against Franz's back. The stiffness in his pants rubbed pointedly against the blond's rear and he watched as Franz buried his face in his hands, turning red right up to his ears. Nuzzling up against Franz's jaw, he works his free hand at the clasp on his own belt, unbuckling it and getting the button and zipper moments later. Shimmying his pants down around his waist, he set to work at reducing Franz to a similar state of undress, just enough to slide his pants down around the curve of his ass.

" _Please_ , what if someone comes around the corner?!" 

Humming without a care in the world, he ran his thumb down the swell of Franz's bum, from tailbone to crack, and grinned at the shiver he spied creeping along the other's skin. "You _pervert_ ," Franz hissed against the wall, fingers digging into the brick. When Bartholomew reached around to grope his front, he felt the bulge of half an erection there.

"You're one to talk."

"Shut up!" The crack in his voice belied his inidgnance, but Bartholomew complied with a snicker. 

There wasn't time enough to properly prepare Franz, though Bartholomew wished there could be. Someday he'd prepare Franz ahead of time and send him to work, make him wait around until lunch hour with a slick and loose hole, before stealing him away and fucking him properly. Just the thought had a shudder racing down Bartholomew's spine, and he gripped his cock, drawing it out of his underwear and letting it rest heavily against the swell of Franz's ass. Maybe someday he'd screw Franz over the railing of the stairwell in one of the less-freqeuented wings of the castle. Or against the wall in a storage closet. Or bend him over a toilet in the single stall on the fourth floor, watch him try to muffle his gasps and moans against his hand while men walked in and out and used the urinal. 

" _Pervert_ ," Franz repeated, voice warbling while Bartholomew rubbed the head of his cock against his ass and stroked himself. Ah, if only Franz knew what Bartholomew was thinking.

Licking his lips again, staring at the strip of bare skin in front of his dick, Bartholomew finally slid his erection between Franz's cheeks; following the curve down to the back of his balls, then lower until it sat comfortably between his thighs. Giving Franz's flank a swat, he coaxed the other (with soft, quiet encouragements; rare as they were, they worked exceptionally well when it came to getting Franz to do what he wanted) to squeeze his thighs together, giving Bartholomew a nice tight heat to rock into. 

Nestling his face against the crook of Franz's neck, Bartholomew closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, rolling his hips back and forth and reveling in the warmth. Franz was twitching, dragging his nails anxiously against the wall. The longer they stayed, the higher their odds were of getting caught. " _Bartholomew_ ," he whispered sharply, and only got a snort in response.

Littering kisses along Franz's nape, Bartholomew reached around and slid a hand down the front of Franz's pants, sliding his fingers with great familiarity around Franz's erection and squeezing. The gasp he got in return was more satisfying than it had any right to be, and he repeated the gesture, twisting his palm along the shaft before sliding his thumb up against the flare of the head. Franz jolted, a tremble breaking out across his body as he knees buckled slightly. "Don't fall," Bartholomew mumbled against his skin, nosing behind his ear and kissing tenderly at the skin there. 

"E-easier said than..." Franz's breathless words trailed off, too preoccupied to bother finishing his sentence. 

Swiping his tongue along Franz's jaw, Bartholomew kissed up against his cheek, before working his way back down to the neck. Feeling the other's tension ratcheting up, he finally turned his hand enough to rest his fingernails against the shaft of Franz's cock, scraping them gently down the length. It had Franz's breath catching hard in his throat, lungs working to breathe as his hips rutted forward, nearly colliding with the wall. " _Easy_ ," Bartholomew hissed, slamming a vice-like grip down on Franz's waist to make sure he wouldn't crush his dick against the wall. "Christ." But he couldn't help smirking at the violent reaction.

He repeated the movement, carefully drawing the edge of his nails down the shaft, and Franz nearly sobbed against the wall. Finally Bartholomew wrapped two fingers around the head, thumb sliding hard along the underside, squeezing and giving it a long, hard jerk. Franz went rigid, gasping open-mouthed against the back of his hand as his orgasm hit him.

Nibbling at the skin along Franz's shoulder, Bartholomew shuddered slightly, hips jutting forward as the other's body stiffened, thighs tensing around his cock. Drawing back slightly, he pumped himself enough times to finally cum, sighing in relief against Franz's neck. 

As soon as Franz was let up from the wall he was swatting Bartholomew's arms, hassling him right up until he had finished pulling up his own pants and buckling his belt back. And, when it was clear Franz wasn't done (shrilly) reprimanding him, Bartholomew pushed him back against the wall again (reveling in the way it made his words catch in his throat and his breath hitch briefly) and began to fix Franz's pants for him. "I can--" 

"Shut up." There was no malice, but no room to argue either. Franz flushed red all over again, staring at Bartholomew's hands worked to return his lower half to proper factory condition. For someone who was so used to getting them out of the way, it didn't come as easily putting them all back into place. 

When he finally managed it, he switched tact quickly and grabbed Franz's collar, yanking him closer and laying a kiss on him. And as soon as he pulled back, entirely too smug, Franz shoved his face away and stormed off, red from his neck to his ears.


End file.
